Chapter 60

Another milestone in my life, another dress, I thought as Fern dragged a particularly fine one from my bags.

"Oh, this one, Jess…"

I took in the shimmering sheath of pale turquoise blue. Tiny gemstones had been embroidered all over the bodice, less and less peppering the folds of the full skirts. It was entirely too formal for a feast, but then I remembered Silas' words. Take your pleasures where you find them, as they might not be there tomorrow. I watched Fern's face light up and knew this.

"You should wear it."

"What? No, I couldn't—"

"Of course you can," I said. I took the dress from her now limp fingers and held it up against her, looking at her colouring against the blue then tossing it on the bed. "Though perhaps not this one. The blue washes you out."

"Oh…"

I caught her longing look at the dress and then smiled as I dropped down to sort through the bags. Red, no. Orange? Gods, who thought to pack an orange dress? It was a colour that looked amazing on the ebon skins of the women from the far-flung kingdoms but few others. Ahh, green. I pulled out a long, flowing dress made from a soft grey green that I knew would be perfect the moment I had it free. Any disappointment on Fern's face was quickly replaced with this.

I knew that hunger. When you saw something beautiful and you lusted after it with your entire heart. I'd felt the same way when I first caught sight of my ‘wedding' dress, being able to see clearly in my mind how it would look. Right then, I was sure Fern did the same at the sight of this dress. Little emeralds dotted the bodice, glimmering in the lamplight, throwing small points of green on her face as I brought the dress closer.

"Fern… this one."

Her hands rose, fell, and rose again. She shot me a sheepish look, then a great big smile split her face.

"Oh, Jess… It's so beautiful."

"Then try it on," I urged, handing it to her. "Please. For me?"

How could I be focused on dresses in a moment like this? What else could I do? Arik's words reverberated around and around in my head, and with each repetition, they got louder. No, no, no, they seemed to say. No hope. No future. No dreaming of something better. Just no. But when Fern said yes to the dress, I felt a flicker of hope that would not be denied.

I hated that Ariel was forced to endure such a death. I hated Magnus for being the one to give the order for such a despicable thing. I understood why Arik resigned himself to his fate, because for all my life, I'd done exactly that. Worn my veil. Spoke only when spoken to. I was a good girl, and where the hell had that gotten me? Arik was still wearing his veil. No, more like a hair shirt, the guilt of so much pain rubbing him raw every day until he forgot the fact that he could take it off. I nodded sharply, then pressed the dress into Fern's hands. I would have to be the one that reminded him he could.

But first, this.

Moments later, I was tightening the laces of Fern's dress, much to her gasping dismay.

"How on earth do Stormarian women breathe in these things?" she asked.

"You don't." I smiled. "Or rather, just shallow little breaths. You get used to it after a while." I loosened the laces a little, and she sucked a breath in greedily. "Beauty is pain, my dear Fern."

"I'm understanding that now, but…"

An old looking glass had been set on the wall of our room. It had a fine crack running along one side and the silvered back was starting to peel away, but I caught the moment she saw herself. Fern stopped still before the glass, staring at her reflection, unable to believe it was her. I smiled.

Imagine a world where all women could experience such joy, my mind thought furiously. Imagine one where every single one felt as beautiful as Fern did now. Her hands slid restively over her hips, her waist, even her breasts, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing until she touched it herself. Imagine a world where women had the freedom to seek their ideal of beauty in any way they saw fit, using dress and hair and cosmetics as an expression of that. I nodded slowly, then came forward, putting my hands on her shoulders.

"You might not take a full breath tonight but look at you, Fern. Look at you."

Her eyes met mine in the mirror and then she smiled, a little tremulous thing followed by a big broad grin.

"Look at me?" She spun around, and I saw her look of pleasure as her skirts flared out. "Look at you! We need to get you ready."

"Fern, what's holding you…"

Several of the other women whose prospective mates were competing in the games appeared in the doorway, but whatever they had to say was cut off by the sight of Fern.

"Who's going to be crowned queen tonight?" one said with a slight frown. "Creed's your brother, not your mate."

"I've lent Fern one of my dresses," I explained, then picked up the blue one. "I'll wear this one. It won't take a moment for me to get changed."

"You two will look like princesses—" another girl said.

"She is a princess," someone hissed, shooting her a dark look.

"Oh Fern… This is so beautiful." Hands went to the flowing skirts, the jewelled bodice. "Your mates will be beside themselves. Every male there will be staring at you."

I heard a note of jealousy, not because they thought Fern was a threat. It was an unsatisfied need, one I understood well. They wanted Fern to look like a princess but couldn't help but want the same thing. What luck I was given many, many dresses to bring with me into Khean.

"If you like the dresses, I have more," I said casually, as I pulled my existing dress off and started wiggling into the blue one.

"More…?"

Every single eye was on me, right as I tugged the bodice up and over my breasts.

"Enough for everyone here, if you'd like?"

A little girlish squeal, that was all I needed to hear to know I'd read the group correctly. I bent down and went to work, eyeing each one of them before finding dresses that would suit their colouring. My lips curved into a grin as our room turned into chaos. Silk and satin, chiffon and velvet, was flung everywhere as ten different women got dressed all at once.

We would've made an entrance no matter what, but as we approached the dining hall en masse, heads started to turn. Eyes widened, then took in all our finery, something that had some women stopping where they were. Hands went to mouths, and the seated diners chattered furiously at what they saw, but I held my hands out.

"Steady, ladies." There was no bonding experience for a woman like the preparation that happened before a big event, so I knew I could help them through this. "Keep your spines straight and your heads held high, and most of all, don't let a single one know what you're feeling. Beautiful, remote, unassailable, that's what we'll be. Your mates will be panting around your skirts in seconds, I can guarantee it."

"Right." Fern glanced at the hall. "Jess is right. Brooke, do you have the crown?"

Brooke shuffled forward gingerly, not liking the fact her skirts were trailing along the ground, but when she got close, she held out a crown woven from flowers with a core of wheat stalks to give it shape. She held it out with a nervous smile.

"Each time a woman's mates win an event, she becomes queen for the day," Brooke explained, holding the crown out. I bent over instinctively, letting her set it on my head. The weight of it felt… strange and yet entirely natural all at the same time. Probably because I'd had to wear tiaras regularly, I reasoned. "We made the crown for you, Jess, and you'll make one for us when our mates win."

"I will." I took her hands in mine and squeezed it, then did the same to many others. "I will, I promise. My mother taught me some very pretty weaving techniques. I'll be sure to put them to good use."

I felt like a general leading her troops forward as I took the first step, then the next, gliding across the dirt path towards the hall. The murmurs grew louder the closer I got, but I felt like they turned from surprise with a hint of mockery to something far more appropriate.

Reverence is what I saw from the males who snapped to their feet. By the looks of their scrapes and bruises, they were all competitors in the games, a particular pack staring after Fern. She flushed bright red, dropping her head down until I shot her a look. Her head jerked up and she sailed forward, ignoring each of them until she took her seat beside Saffron and Hazel. The older women took note of the males who then sat down with a small nod.

My escort thinned as woman after woman went to sit beside her mates. All the hauteur I'd taught them seemed to melt in the face of the males' regard, but that was to be expected. I caught each pretty flush, each shy look, and felt as pleased as a mother hen. They were accepting the attention like it was their due, and that was all I could want for any woman.

Then there were the four of them.

They were the only males still standing, making clear where my position was. We had been seated at the central dais, along with the elders of the packs. It wasn't the pack leaders who formed an honour guard for me, but my mates. I forced myself to smile serenely as I approached, catching the flare of heat in all their eyes as they took me in.

Yes, Fern's instincts were correct—this was the right dress. But rather than approaching them blindly with no idea what I was walking into, as I had the last time I'd worn a beautiful dress in their company, I stared each man in the eyes. Let them take in the way the fabric hugged my form. Let them see the precious jewels sewn to my bodice and know I was just as valuable. Creed's eyes went wide, and Roan grinned at my approach. Silas shot me that sly smile that made clear he knew exactly what I was doing. And Arik? His gaze felt like it burned holes in my dress, stripping away all my defences to get to the naked core of me, but I wouldn't allow him that pleasure.

Because I had made up my mind.

He wasn't going to surrender the bond. Arik might think the climb to becoming king too steep, but men could often do things they never dreamed of with the right incentive. I was that incentive. If he took the throne, we would be safe. I would be his queen, Silas his spymaster, Roan his personal bodyguard, and Creed his connection to the wolf shifters. He would have a power base few could challenge, so it was his eyes I met as I drew closer.

"You gave all the girls dresses?" Creed asked as I approached. "That was a generous thing."

"They're just dresses." I kept my reply airy as I flicked out my skirts, then sat down on the chair that Roan tucked under me.

"Not just dresses." Silas sat down beside me with a smile. "Dismissing them as mere fripperies denies something we all know." His elbows went to the table as he made a thorough inspection of me. "That confections of charmeuse and chiffon are more than enough to have a man losing all sense." Our gazes locked as his smile widened. "That there is a power to beauty that none can match."

"So, you've come to my way of thinking, Master Silas," I said, turning to look down the table.

"I think you've convinced all of us of any argument you might make tonight," Roan groaned, looking almost pained at the sight of me.

"Not all of you." Arik knew what I meant, otherwise why would he turn to face me? Why would his lips thin down to a hard line? "But you will, in time, of that I can be sure. You'll see this is the only way. Creed says we are fated to be together."

"It's written in the stars, love," he told me in a hoarse voice, his eyes more green than brown. "This is always the way it was supposed to be."

"Then anything I do going forward is just the hand of fate at work."

I didn't wait for a reply, turning towards the dining hall as the elders rose to their feet to announce the beginning of the feast. Yes, I had to believe I had fate's favour, otherwise I'd be quivering in a corner, terrified of the doom that no doubt awaited me.